


All the pretty girls

by shaardom



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Helen is also mentionned, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, plus unnamed girl who keeps the plot going
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 11:44:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12342042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shaardom/pseuds/shaardom
Summary: Gansey wanted to tell him. Instead, he inquired :"How do you know when you want to do something ?"





	All the pretty girls

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like the less I try to explain, the better you'll feel about it. My point is simple : never engage in anything without being certain that all people involved are okay with it.
> 
> Maybe not enjoy, as I use to write, but have a nice time reading.
> 
> PS : the title is a song from Fun, but I've noticed that a band names Kaleo also made a song which shares that name so, you can pick whichever you prefer.

Gansey usually avoided getting drunk at galas. People he talked to usually wanted to keep his glass full, and he had to sip on the sparkly alcohol at times. It had to keep going until the event ends, but this one lasted too long. He apologized and retreated in the bathrooms. The dim light made him feel a tad bit better. Out of random, he pulled his phone and called Ronan. It rang for almost a minute before an artificial — yet amiable — voice told him to leave a message. He hung up.

The door opened on his left and he pretended to walk towards one of the stalls despite not peculiarly wanting to do anything this bathroom was designed for.

The girl was probably drunk too, otherwise she wouldn't have entered the wrong room. Gansey adjusted his smile before turning at her to point out the mistake.

"I was searching for you !" she giggled.

Gansey's thoughts were already slowed down. He obliterated what she said not to worsen the issue with thoughts too heavy to be processed in his state and calmly led her back in the main room. She is as pale as Ronan, he noticed, and a mass of luxurious curls cascaded on her bare shoulders. She was also holding his hand now, and seemed unwilling to let to.

Gansey decorticated the situation, one detail at the time. They are both drunk. He shouldn't make a mess or draw unnecessary attention— his father is about to start talking. He made the mistake of following her to the window, in a rather discreet angle. The heavy curtains threw their shadows on them and with his parents keeping the guests' attention, they won't be noticed.

She said something which he didn't immediately register, laughed more then kissed him.

 

He froze.

She was still amiable. He tried to back away — or was too drunk to get past the _intention_ of moving ? — and found that she held him in a rather forceful manner. There were her long nails against his wrist, and now her other hand against his neck. Every single cell of his body died after a loud agony.

 

The obligation of not drawing attention kept him quiet.  
\---

Helen drove him to Monmouth. He didn't tell her what was wrong despite feeling the story on the verge of his lips. It was too _big_ to make it out, like a curse during the mass, minus its liberating power.

"Is your friend there ?"

"Ronan ?" Gansey thought. "Yes." In fact, he didn't know. "Don't worry, I'll only take a long bath."

"Do not fall asleep in there." Helen furrowed her brows. "Maybe you should get some rest first."

Gansey bit the inside of his cheek. The evening had been carrying on for too long.

"Thank you, Helen."

"Send a message when you wake up."

The night felt cold on his cheeks. He didn't take off his vest before having closed the door behind him. Ronan hadn't called him back, purposely ignoring the phone. Gansey would have liked it better if he had answered.

The BMW was here, so Ronan must be. Gansey didn't check on Ronan's current occupation. Maybe that he managed to get some sleep. Gansey wouldn't want to ruin that. He undressed in his own room then headed out. Seeing his stained underwear forced him to remember— it seems that bad memories are resilient, even through the haze of guilt and alcohol.

The bath was cold, enough to be dangerous after a few minutes. Gansey shivered while immersing himself in the water. He grabbed his phone and called Ronan again. It rang twice.

"How did it go ?"

Ronan's familiar lack of preambles made him feel surrounded by a familiar, benevolent presence.

"I'm drowning," Gansey told him.

Ronan remained quiet at the other side of the line.

"The water's temperature is of fifteen degrees Celsius at most."

Ronan cursed and hung up. Gansey leaned back against the cold ceramic and closed his eyes, shaken by a quiet laughter. The door banged open a short moment later.

"Gansey, are you aware that I will be charged of murder if you die here ?"

"Ronan, dear Ronan."

Gansey laughed, getting pieces of his drunk, blissful happiness back. Ronan rolled his eyes. Gansey drinks, sometimes, but he doesn't remember seeing him this drunk before.

"Here."

Ronan emptied more than half of the tub to fill it with agreeably warm water instead. Gansey wanted to tell him. Instead, he inquired :

"How do you know when you want to do something ?"

Ronan pulled a stool to sit, then answered with another question. At least, he could easily explain this feeling.

"You wanted to take a bath," he stated.

Gansey nodded.

"Are you questioning it ?"

"No."

"What happened ?" Ronan carefully asked.

Gansey didn't know by which bit to start. He raised his left hand. There were small, pink crescents dug in his skin. He pointed at the messy bruise which his collar barely sufficed to hide at the time being. Then he unconsciously inched closer to the wall, away from Ronan and the inevitable judgement.

"It appears that I've been assaulted in a rather pleasant way."

The joke fell flat, as expected. Ronan held out his hand. Gansey let him touch the three dimensional pattern drawn inside his wrist.

"Fuck," Ronan eloquently summed up. "Sue her."

Gansey withdrew his hand.

"Who will believe that I did not want that ?"

"I do," Ronan said. "Your sister, Helen, will. Declan and Matthew too. Parrish won't need to hear the story twice. Noah, obviously."

"I— that's not what I meant. I do not doubt your trust."

Ronan knew what he meant. No court will take him seriously. Because Gansey was drunk. Because there is no other way that Gansey didn't want that. The injustice was sickening.

"We'll create our own _fucking_ court if we have to."

Gansey felt two hot tears rolling on his cheeks. That's ridiculous, he thought. But he didn't swallow them because the bitterness was too much to handle, and that his weaknesses were safe around Ronan. He didn't want, at first, but he end up letting her and the resignation followed him even now.

"I just want to stop feeling it."

He angrily clenched his fists underwater. The pressure of her lips, of her hands, remained.

"Tomorrow," Ronan said, "I'm dragging you to the police station."

"What if I don't let you ?"

Ronan seemed amused by the challenge.

"I'd like to see that."

"I've lost the case before it was even open."

"That's not fucking fair."

Gansey shook his head. It is, in a twisted way.  
\---

Ronan wanted to leave when he exited the bath. Gansey was already holding on his shoulder to stand and make it out of the tub without tumbling on his own feet.

"We're not children anymore," Gansey pointed out.

"Get a towel already," Ronan chided.

Gansey did and wrapped it low around his waist. Ronan shamelessly stared. Gansey's nakedness felt like another secret. Gansey— was coming back towards him.

"Would you mind brushing my hair ?"

"Hell if I would."

Hell anyway. Ronan stood up and let Gansey sit. Thin strands fell on Gansey's bare shoulders as Ronan worked. Then the gentle motion stopped too soon and Ronan replaced the brush in the drawer without cleaning it. Gansey stood up and turned to face him. Ronan pretended to be unaffected and started picking golden hair off Gansey's shoulders.

"Stay here while I get you something to wear."

He returned to find Gansey in the same position where he had left him. He had taken the warmest night clothes he could find, to prevent Gansey's body from feeling the temperature drop outside of the bathroom.

"Say something, you're creeping me out."

Gansey muttered something about being tired and still not being sleepy. He dropped the towel and stood fully naked for a couple of seconds before picking Ronan's choice of pajamas. The deliberate gesture was tempting and Ronan recognized it for what Gansey intended it to be— an invitation. But if he touched Gansey right now, he wouldn't be much better than her.

They headed to the kitchen and settled down for a cup of tea, until Gansey felt both tired and sleepy. It was a wonder that he could walk to his room, even though he heavily leaned on Ronan.

"Ronan, do you hate me now ?"

"You know too goddamn well that I don't."

"Then kiss me."

"When you're well rested and sober."

Ronan gingerly ruffled his hair, throwing down five minutes of focused brushing. Gansey held on his shirt, keeping him close while saying something along the lines of 'fair enough.'  
\---

He thought Monmouth would be empty by the time he wakes up and was pleasantly proven wrong. He had taken a lot of time to get ready before going downstairs to push the disappointment further. A figurative weight was lifted off his chest as he saw Ronan's silhouette in the dry light.

"Thought you got lost on the way."

Gansey laughed, pleased by Ronan's mere presence. He sat next to Ronan. The consequences of the night were still visible on his features : he didn't get nearly enough sleep.

"I am so tired, Ronan. I feel like I've woken up in the middle of the night."

As he spoke, he realized that his chances to get a kiss now were close to zero again. So, he leaned against Ronan and closed his eyes.

"You should eat something."

"I'm not hungry."

"Gansey." Ronan lifted his chin. "You're still shocked and it's fine. Noah cooked, go grab something."

It often went the other way around, with Ronan being taken care of, often enough for Gansey to forget how much he _needed_ Ronan. He stood up and headed to the kitchen. Tiredness had sharpened his senses to the point breathing was painful. Unless that was the hangover.

It probably was.

Noah greeted him but only Ronan's firm voice continuously rang in his ears, distracting him from the past chatter of oblivious guests. Her laugh— it was more of a drunk giggle, actually. Does she remember ? _If so, does she regret now, or will she cherish this memory ?_

Gansey heard the cupboard being slammed shut way too late. It startled Noah, who was sat at the table in front of a cup of coffee.

"Easy," Noah said.

He didn't know, but he tried to comfort Gansey anyway. It was so rare to see him on the edge. Ronan was there a moment later, worry bringing out the best in him.

"I keep reminiscing. I can't help."

"I know."

Noah touched Gansey's forehead. His temperature was normal for someone who had ingested that much alcohol and slept so little afterwards. Gansey turned to Ronan, pleading for forgiveness.

"I _hated_ myself," he confessed. "I felt like I was betraying you. That you wouldn't believe me, _that you'd be mad at me._ "

"Gansey, I shouldn't have to state that I'm not."

Both Noah and him hugged Gansey. A ragged breath later, Gansey heard a sob breaking in his chest.

"What happened ?" Noah asked Ronan.

Gansey answered, words and feelings stumbling through his lips to form a cacophony he isn't familiar with. Noah kissed the tip of his nose, which drew a smile on his lips.

A few hours later, Noah volunteered to accompany them to the police station. Gansey was still reluctant to go and Ronan renewed his threat. They didn't get to that level. Gansey willingly entered Ronan's car.

They went. Gansey dozed off and woke up as the car slowed down.

"Not going to give advice," Ronan said, turning the engine off. "You know how to handle these people better than I do."

All three of them exited the car, but only Gansey would enter the station. He stared at the building. It seemed empty.

"Stay true to the facts," Noah said. "Don't— be afraid of how they could interpret your words."

"Yeah, do that," Ronan nodded. "Or don't do that. Fuck."

Noah cheered to this conclusion while Ronan held Gansey close. For a moment, Gansey could hear his slow breath and feel his heartbeat. He kissed Ronan's jaw and his own daringness sent chills in his back.

"When you're back."

Gansey tried to imagine what kissing Ronan's lips is like. Needless to say, he didn't even get close to it.  
\---

"Ronan, it's— we knew it was going to happen."

The case had been closed shortly after. She said that she didn't remember and Gansey's bruises were the only evidence to investigate. It was her word against his. He knew they didn't trust him, because it doesn't make sense that he didn't want it. He knew, but it still hurt to be right about that.

Now that the procedure had proven to be pointless, Gansey worked at having the last solid proofs of his assault destroyed. He was resignated and had gracefully accepted the news. It was harder to break it on Ronan, whose truthfulness didn't let him understand.

Gansey tried to explain him privilege and prejudices. The more he talked, the dumber it sound.

A truth is that he had been physically assaulted. Another version, which the world preferred, is that he had let her, and had been afraid of her parents' reaction afterwards. Whoever had rewritten the story seemed to obliterate the fact that Gansey simply did not want it. That he and Ronan were dating.

Ronan would break something if he owned something around, _anything_ from a vase to a small chimney ornament, but it was Monmouth.

"But it had helped me recover," Gansey concluded. "Thanks for taking me to the police station that day."

"Anytime," Ronan bitterly said.

He welcomed Gansey in his arms. A moment later, Gansey nudged his cheek. Noah was upstairs. The living room was theirs. Ronan took another minute to swallow his frustration. Then, he looked at Gansey's chiseled features.

"I'm sober."

"And tired," Ronan completed, tracing his cheekbone.

"It's a daily occurence." Gansey scrunched up his nose. "Insomnia."

Ronan laughed. He shared that condition. He carefully held Gansey's chin while pressing a kiss against his lips. Gansey relaxed a bit more against him. Ronan also felt himself melting in the touch. Gansey's kisses were the opposite of the Gorgo's stare. His lips can make stone sentient, whether it was in the first place.

The efforts he made to show a softer side were greatly rewarded. In fact, Gansey always rewards any little effort he makes, but this one is a long run. He feels alive again. They barely stopped kissing as he straddled Ronan's hips. He was elated, joy chasing his childish fear of Ronan's final rejection. The dulled colors of the world regained their full saturation as their tongues touched. It felt like waking up from a nightmare to be welcomed by a pleasant dream.


End file.
